Third Time's Not The Charm
by tinyinara
Summary: Neal tries to be helpful, but Peter's not impressed with his methods. Set season 1. Warning: Contains spanking of an adult.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1 of 2. Written for a fiction exchange. Hope you enjoy!

**SUMMARY:** Neal tries to be helpful at work. Peter is not impressed. (Not slash).

**WARNING:** Contains non-consensual adult discipline/spanking (and a fairly flimsy plot!)

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own _White Collar_. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not making any money from this.

* * *

'Peter.'

Peter looked up at Neal's voice and then groaned inwardly when he saw the younger man standing in his office doorway, smiling. Peter was familiar with most of Neal's smiles, and this was the one that said _I want something and you're going to give it to me, even if I have to use every trick in the book._

'What is it Neal?'

Neal widened his smile further and took Peter's greeting as an invitation to come in and sit down in the chair opposite Peter's desk, crossing his legs casually.

'I heard Jones and Diana got raises,' he said, and whilst it was clearly designed to sound offhand, there was an undertone of accusation.

Peter nodded. 'It's salary review time, Neal. That's what happens at salary review time.' Then, seeing where this was going, he continued before Neal could cut in: 'And no, there's no raise for you. C.I. payment is set in stone. There's nothing I can do about that.'

Peter had expected Neal's face to fall at this news, but his smile stayed put and was now accompanied by an earnest nod.

'I know that, Peter. But I was thinking, maybe instead of a raise, I could have something else. There's an exhibition on soon that I want to see – a Ken Price Sculpture Retrospective – but it's a little out of my radius, and there are a few other shows I'd like to take in too, so I thought you could increase the distance, just for a couple of wee–'

'No.'

Neal faltered, and this time the smile did slip. 'What? Why not?'

'Because two miles is already a generous radius,' Peter said, sighing a little. 'And every time I need to get it extended or removed for non-work-related purposes, I have to fill in numerous forms, and give reasons. Reasons which the marshals expect to be more convincing than 'My C.I. wants to look at sculptures and apparently the hundreds of exhibitions actually within his radius aren't good enough'.'

'But Ken Price is…' Neal started, and then realised that arguing the merits of differing sculptors was unlikely to hold much water with Peter. He tried a different tack. 'Peter, if I'm not getting a raise like everyone else, I don't think it's unreasonable to ask for a small gesture. You know, to reward me for good behaviour.'

Peter's eyebrows shot up and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 'What good behaviour would that be, Neal?'

Neal looked affronted. 'I've solved a lot of cases since I've been working here,' he began, and then took note of Peter's expression and swiftly corrected himself. 'I've helped _you _solve a lot of cases. Your clearance rate's increased by twenty per cent!'

'Eight per cent.'

'Whatever,' Neal smiled. 'It's gone up.'

'It has,' Peter agreed, and he made himself soften his tone, because he did appreciate Neal's work, and he probably didn't tell his partner enough. Still, as much as part of him would love to grant Neal's request and see those blue eyes light up, he knew it wouldn't be any good for either of them to start cutting Neal extra slack when the kid couldn't even stay put inside his current boundaries.

'But Neal, that's your job, and you're being rewarded for it with a 2 mile radius instead of a view of cell walls. Besides, I think we're both aware that you haven't behaved flawlessly recently. Do I need to mention the Haustenberg you stole, or the break in at the Hauser clinic?'

'Ah!' Neal said, putting up a finger to stop Peter and grinning smugly. 'You can't use those as examples. You've already…' his grin faded ever-so-slightly but he continued on regardless, '…_dealt _with those incidents. So you can't hold them against me, it's double jeopardy.' He was pleased with his reasoning, even if he did have to force himself not to shift uncomfortably as he remembered exactly _how _Peter had chosen to deal with those actions.

Peter suppressed a smile. 'That's not quite the correct use of 'double jeopardy',' he said mildly, 'but regardless, even if you had been behaving, the radius is there for a reason, and I'm not altering it.'

Neal opened his mouth to argue further, and then realised he had nothing left to say. He felt his face shifting embarrassingly into a pout and swiftly replaced it with a gracious smile in an attempt to maintain some dignity. 'Fine,' he said, as smoothly as possible. 'Thank you for your time.'

He rose and left the office, leaving Peter shaking his head as he returned to his paperwork.

* * *

Neal sat at his desk, alternating between glaring at the mortgage fraud file in front of him and glaring up at Peter's office. He worked just as hard as anyone else here – even if he did occasionally persuade the junior agents to do his paperwork for him – and he rarely complained – except for when they were in the van, and who could really blame him for that? – and yet he was completely underappreciated. He tapped his pen against his lower lip, trying to decide how best to change Peter's mind.

Maybe – and it was, Neal had to admit, a long shot – maybe if he could show how much of an asset he was during the next few cases, if he could get answers quicker and more efficiently than Jones and Diana, then Peter would have to recognise that he deserved a reward. And the sculpture exhibition was three weeks away: plenty of time to put his unique skills to work in helping the team.

* * *

'It was in plain sight, Peter. I'm perfectly entitled to pass on evidence that is in plain sight.'

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and leaned both elbows heavily on his desk. He was currently experiencing one of his frequent Caffrey-instigated headaches, this time caused by Neal's latest overzealous attempt to help whilst out doing surveillance for the current case.

'The list was only in plain sight once you _opened up_ the wallet. The wallet that you stole from our suspect, who you were not supposed to be nearer than fifty feet to. I hardly think a judge will uphold 'plain sight' rules under those circumstances,' Peter snapped.

'I gave it back before he noticed, so it was hardly stealing,' Neal defended, annoyance creeping over his face that his evidence was being discounted. 'He didn't see me. And you don't need to submit the list in court anyway – you can just use it to help in the investigation. It doesn't even have to be mentioned in the report.'

Peter shook his head. 'Fine. But no more of this. I don't want you making a habit of stealing from suspects – or _borrowing _from suspects,' he amended, putting his hand up to forestall Neal's protest. 'I _mean _it, Neal. It's going to get you into trouble and get our cases thrown out.'

Neal wanted to argue the issue further, but Peter's countenance was forbidding, so he nodded his understanding and left. He was secretly pleased; it was only a matter of time before one of the numbers on the list gave them a break, and he was sure Peter would be more than happy to overlook his minor discretion then, and credit him with helping close the case instead. All in all, it had been a successful afternoon.

* * *

Two days later, when Neal turned up at work to find that none of the numbers on the list had given them a lead, he was not happy.

Three hours after _that_, Neal was even less happy. He thought it had been a good idea to excuse himself for a bathroom break and then take an extended walk around during their visit to the suspect's home whilst Peter asked the man – Bartlett, the presumed head of a smuggling ring – a few questions. And Neal was perfectly capable of picking the lock to Bartlett's office without leaving any trace, so it made complete sense for him to rifle through a few documents and photograph some with his phone whilst he was there.

Peter did not seem to agree, and once he'd finished sounding out Bartlett, he led Neal firmly away from the house and down the street, chastising him about recklessness and the potential for getting caught by the housekeeper. Neal was starting to worry – Peter's grip on his upper arm was unpleasantly tight, and the agent's face held the same irate yet determined look that it had the last couple of times Neal had got himself into trouble. Those two times had _not _ended well. They had ended in two excruciating lectures, followed by two far-more-excruciating sessions of… well, Neal didn't even want to think the word, but Peter had referred to it as 'a more hands-on approach to discipline'. Neal had no desire to experience that approach a third time. He would be more than happy if he never saw the view from upside down over Peter's lap ever again.

Still, he told himself, he hadn't done anything so bad this time. He was really just being helpful. Peter would see that.

Neal suddenly noticed that they had passed the parked Taurus and Peter was pulling him into an empty alley just beyond the car. The agent tugged Neal behind a dumpster, shielding them from the road. This was not good.

Neal squirmed out of Peter's hold and the older man glared down at him.

'What did I tell you about breaking warrant laws and getting evidence illegally?' Peter all-but-growled.

'That I should do it more often because it works so well?' Neal quipped with a grin, hoping the Caffrey charm would make Peter smile. It did not, and Neal quickly noted his mistake as Peter's expression darkened further. He would have backed away, but Peter grabbed his arm again, turned him to the side and landed two sharp slaps to his backside before releasing him.

Neal felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Although Peter had put him over his knee twice, he'd yet to deliver any swats outside of those occasions, so this was an unwelcome new experience. Being held by the arm and smacked somehow made him feel even more like a little kid than the previous spankings he'd endured.

'_Ow_,' he complained resentfully, trying to cover his humiliation with defensiveness. 'It was a joke, Peter.'

'Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes?'

Neal was tempted to give another smart answer to rescue his pride, but the sting still throbbing across his butt made him think twice. 'No.'

Peter continued to glare at him until Neal glanced away. 'Sorry, it won't happen again'.

'Good, because I am tired of this. If you'd been caught today, Bartlett could have pressed charges, and I'd be hard pressed to protect you.' He sighed and put his hand on Neal's shoulder. 'I know you're trying to help, but you can't go about it like this. Pull this sort of thing again and you will be extremely unhappy about the consequences. Got it?'

Neal nodded. The threat wasn't exactly subtle. 'Got it.'

'Okay,' Peter murmured, some of the anger having ebbed away from his voice. He squeezed the shoulder under his hand. 'Car, now,' he ordered quietly, and Neal was happy to oblige.

* * *

**Second chapter will be up soon! Reviews are loved! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2 of 2. Written for a fiction exchange.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed part 1!

**WARNING:** Contains non-consensual adult discipline/spanking (and a fairly flimsy plot!) Also, please **BE AWARE** that Peter is somewhat sterner in this story than I might usually write him.

* * *

Neal honestly intended to heed Peter's warnings. There were other ways to impress the agent that posed significantly less danger to his ability to sit comfortably, he told himself. He would just work a little harder than usual, put in a little more overtime, and he'd still manage to break the case before anyone else.

Neal's resolve lasted a full two days.

It was just too tempting. He and Peter had gone to visit one of Bartlett's associates – with no other leads (the photographs from Bartlett's had turned out to be useless), and no possible undercover openings, Peter was hoping that simply asking a few questions to the key players under suspicion would rattle some cages. He had everyone under tight surveillance and was just waiting for someone to panic and slip up, hopefully by moving the smuggled goods.

Whilst Peter talked to the suspect, a Mr Adamson, Neal felt himself becoming increasingly frustrated. This was the man's _home_, there was certain to be evidence here – and Neal could find it, given the chance.

He studied Peter. The agent's previous threat had certainly seemed genuine, but Neal reasoned that Peter had let him off before when he'd gone outside the book, as long as it had gotten results. And with the law of averages, he'd _have_to find something useful this time, seeing as the last two attempts had been a bust. He let himself imagine Peter's pleasure when Neal found just what they needed to crack the case – the address of a warehouse, for example, or the shipping info for the next haul – and he let himself dream of Peter admitting that Neal's methods, whilst unorthodox, were invaluable. He made a decision.

'Mind if I use your bathroom?' he asked Adamson. The man glowered at him, but Adamson was attempting to project an aura of having nothing to hide, so he acquiesced.

'Down the hall on the right.'

Neal felt Peter's glare on him and noticed the agent start to move towards Neal as if ready to hold him in place, so he slipped quickly out.

Turning down the hall, he started trying the doors, until he located a locked one. The office, he presumed, and reached for his lockpicks. He was just sliding the pick into the lock when he heard a door open behind him and Adamson's voice, apparently dismissing Peter. The voice cut off abruptly and Neal could only assume it was for one reason.

Neal slipped the lockpick up his sleeve, glad that his body mostly shielded his activity with the door from Adamson's gaze, and turned around to give him and Peter a dazzling smile.

'Which door did you say was the bathroom again?' he asked. 'I'm having trouble finding it.'

'Not surprising, seeing as you're on the left of the hall, and I told you right,' Adamson snapped, his eyes dark.

'Ah, I'll just –' Neal started, but was cut off by Peter.

'You can hold it til we get back to the office,' he said shortly, with a look that Neal was fairly sure could be interpreted as _You will never sit down again_. Neal nodded and swiftly made his way back to Peter's side.

'We'll be in touch,' Peter said to Adamson, who nodded tightly and ushered them out of the front door.

Neal flinched as he heard the door slam shut behind them, and felt Peter grab his arm tight enough to border on painful.

'What the hell, Neal?' Peter hissed in his ear as he marched Neal back to the car.

'Would you believe I genuinely needed the bathroom?' Neal tried, looking up at Peter with wide, innocent eyes. Peter didn't even dignify that with an answer. Neal sighed. 'It would have been fine if you'd kept him talking for a few more minutes,' he muttered, surprised that he hadn't been able to count on Peter to do that.

The agent stopped abruptly in the street and Neal felt his sharp intake of breath. Then they were moving again and Peter's voice was low and angry. 'Did you just blame me for this?' he asked. 'I _did _try to keep him talking, but he took offence to one of my questions and refused to speak to me any more without a lawyer. Not that I should have _had _to try and keep him talking, just because my C.I. has the impulse control of a five year old and can't follow simple orders!'

Peter unlocked the car and pushed Neal into the seat, only barely restraining himself from saying _'Wait til I get you home!'_

Neal shifted in his seat as Peter started the car.

'I'm sorry, Peter. I just wanted to help, and –'

'What is this really about?' Peter asked curtly, his eyes still on the road.

'About?' Neal hedged. Faced with the reality of having to tell Peter he was trying to prove himself because he felt underappreciated, he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how foolish that sounded.

'Yes, about,' Peter said. He turned to give Neal a sharp look. 'Are you trying to get back at me because I wouldn't extend your radius?'

'No,' Neal said indignantly. Then, when Peter raised his eyebrows…'not exactly.' Neal sighed. 'I just wanted to solve the case and show you that I'm just as valuable as the rest of the team. Though in hindsight…this may not have been the best way to go about it.'

Peter huffed out a laugh. 'You think?' He looked across at Neal again. 'I never said you weren't as valuable as the others, and you _know _that. But I've never had to deal with this sort of behaviour from them either,' he pointed out, shaking his head. 'And I shouldn't have to deal with it from _anyone_.' He took the exit for Brooklyn and waited for the inevitable reaction from Neal.

'Wait – this isn't the way back to the office?'

'We're not going back to the office,' Peter said darkly.

'But…' Neal tried desperately to think of a way out of this. 'I have paperwork to sort out at the office.'

'I have things to _sort out _at home,' Peter countered, leaving Neal in little doubt of what – or who – he was going to be sorting out.

Neal cringed.

* * *

'Out,' Peter ordered, holding Neal's car door open. Neal pushed himself further into the seat.

'I really think we should go back to the office, Peter. It's only 4pm, we have work to do, and –'

'They'll survive without us,' Peter said dryly. 'Out.'

'Peterrr…' Neal was embarrassed to hear himself whine. 'I don't want to.'

'Shocking. Out!' Peter was swiftly losing patience. When Neal continued to stay where he was, Peter reached in, undid the seatbelt and unceremoniously yanked Neal out of the seat.

'Hey! That _hurt_,' Neal complained as Peter slammed the car door shut behind him.

'It'll hurt more in a minute,' Peter muttered, though he loosened his grip on Neal a little and guided him more gently into the house.

'I really did think it would work, Peter,' Neal said as they entered the front room.

Peter turned to face his errant charge and put his hands on his hips. 'I _told _you to stop it. I told you to start playing by the rules, and that if you didn't, you would be in trouble. What if Adamson had come out a minute later and found you with the door open? What if he'd found you in the office? He could have pressed charges and there's no way I could have kept you on as my C.I. after that. You'd be going back to prison. And what if you do something like that when I'm not there? The wrong person finds you and you could find yourself in serious danger.'

Neal bit his lip and looked away. It sounded a lot more serious when Peter said it like that. But he still didn't want to be punished.

'Look, I won't to do it again, OK? I've learned my lesson with Adamson almost catching me. I promise.'

Peter shook his head. 'Nice try.' He cocked his head to the side, considering, then pointed at Neal. 'Stay here.'

Neal watched apprehensively as Peter disappeared into the kitchen, and then felt the blood drain from his face as the agent reappeared…carrying a wooden spoon. _What the…? _Peter had never used anything but his hand before. Neal took a step back.

'Planning on doing some baking, Peter?' he asked lightly, trying to cover his nerves. 'Because I can give you a hand with that. I'm actually very talented with cookies and –'

'Neal. _Enough_.' Peter put the spoon on the coffee table and took off his jacket, then started to roll up his shirt sleeves. Neal's eyes darted over to the doorway, considering his options. Running seemed pretty good right now.

Peter caught it. 'Don't you dare,' he said, sitting on the couch and beckoning the younger man over.

'But Peterrr…' Neal tried. 'Do you really have to use _that_?' He eyed the spoon with distaste.

'I warned you –' Peter began.

'You didn't warn me you were planning on using baking implements on my ass!' Neal interrupted indignantly.

Peter narrowed his eyes and Neal shut his mouth guiltily. 'I _warned _you,' Peter started again, that you'd get a spanking if you kept this up. Apparently that wasn't enough to make you reconsider, so obviously I need to make more of an impression with your punishments.'

'No,' Neal shook his head frantically, 'trust me Peter, you make plenty of an impression.'

Peter felt a flash of sympathy at the panic in Neal's eyes, but he hardened himself. 'Come on. I'm not looking forward to this either, so let's just get it over with,' he said firmly.

Neal took another step back. 'You realise you could make us both happy and just skip it completely?'

Peter raised an eyebrow. 'And which one of us will be happy if you end up back in jail?' he asked pointedly.

Neal had nothing to say to that.

Peter tapped his own thigh. 'Over here, please.'

Neal backed up again, his eyes not leaving Peter's face. 'Can't we talk about this more?' he asked, edging towards the door.

'Caffrey!' Peter snapped loudly, his last vestiges of patience gone. 'Get. Over. Here. Now. Or I will come and get you, and you will regret it.'

Neal's stomach dropped even further and he knew he really should just go over there. But he couldn't make his feet move in that direction.

Suddenly Peter was on his feet and striding towards him. Neal scrambled to get away but Peter grabbed him, twisted his arm behind his back and bent him over. Neal felt six hard, stinging smacks land on his rear end as he squirmed in Peter's grasp.

Peter let him go and he stood up, his face red in embarrassment and his hands going back to his butt. But before he could rub, Peter was pulling him back to the couch and tugging him down across his lap.

Neal felt the air go out of him as his stomach hit Peter's thighs hard. He tried to get back up but Peter's left arm was locking him into place, and Peter's right hand was –

'No, Peter, _don't!' _Neal protested as Peter unfastened his pants and started to drag them down. Peter ignored him, stripping the pants down to Neal's knees as Neal struggled and kicked.

Peter raised his hand and brought it down hard across the fullest part of Neal's boxer-clad butt, and the younger man gasped.

'You need to follow my instructions,' Peter lectured, smacking his hand down again on Neal's right cheek and then his left, making the kid lurch forward. 'They're there to keep you _safe_. And you need to stop taking stupid, illegal risks that threaten your agreement with the F.B.I.' He slapped Neal's sit spots hard.

'Owww! Ok, I will, I'm sorry,' Neal promised, twisting under the onslaught as Peter continued to land solid smacks across his bottom. He tried to count to distract himself but it only made him feel worse. _Ten…twenty… _'Please, that's _enough_.'

Peter shook his head. 'I've only just started,' he said, tightening his hold on the wriggling boy and increasing the strength of the swats.

Neal yelped as a particularly hard smack caught him across the crease where his bottom met his thighs. '_Stop it_!' he demanded, throwing his hand back.

Peter grabbed it and held it firmly across his back. 'Settle down,' he ordered.

'_You_settle down,' Neal retorted angrily, earning himself a couple of even harder smacks across his as-yet-untouched thighs. Neal let out a cry and tried to yank his hand out of Peter's grip. When he couldn't he kicked both his legs up to cover himself instead.

Peter huffed out an angry breath. 'Neal. Move them.'

Neal stayed still.

'Fine,' Peter bit out, pushing Neal further across his lap, shoving his legs down and securing them under his own.

Neal tensed. He hated being trapped. 'No, Peter, don't, _I don't like it_,' he protested, squirming and finding himself with absolutely nowhere to go.

'You've brought it on yourself,' Peter said, but not unkindly, pausing for a moment to rub Neal's back for a moment until he relaxed. Then he raised his hand again and landed a few more smacks on the now unprotected backside across his knee as Neal mewled in pain.

'Sto-op,' Neal pleaded again, hopelessly, and Peter heard the crack in his voice. He sighed. Neal hadn't cried the first couple of times they'd done this, but he doubted they'd get through this one without a few tears. Neal's breath was already coming in short, upset gasps.

He reached for Neal's underwear and started to pull down the boxer briefs, inducing an indignant cry.

'Peter!' Neal burst out, appalled, pressing himself down into Peter's lap in an attempt to trap his underwear.

'I'm not using the spoon without seeing your skin,' Peter said firmly. 'I don't want to risk bruising you.'

'Well you could easily erase that risk if you didn't use it in the first place,' Neal shot back, and then cringed, expecting more smacks.

But Peter just tapped the side of his hip and said in a controlled voice: 'Lift up a little please.'

Neal was sorely tempted to tell Peter where to go, but he was completely trapped and didn't see that answer ending too well for his ass, so he reluctantly cinched his hips up enough for Peter to drag his boxer briefs down. The cool air hit his butt and his buried his head in his left arm, utterly humiliated.

'I hate you sometimes,' he muttered, then instantly regretted it – not just because it was likely to earn him extra swats, but also because it was wholly untrue. He waited for Peter to admonish him, but all he got was silence and then a tight: 'Fair enough'.

He felt Peter reach for the spoon and tensed, but Peter just rested it on his bottom.

'Tell me what you're going to do next time?' he asked Neal.

Neal hesitated. 'Next time?'

'Next time you feel the need to go outside the law and take foolish, needless risks.'

Neal sighed. 'I'm going to listen to you instead.'

'Good,' Peter said softly, then raised the spoon and started to snap it down across Neal's backside.

Neal _squawked_. He should have been embarrassed to hear that sound leaving his mouth, but he was more concerned with the blazing circles of pain landing across his bottom. How could a spoon hurt that much? He gritted his teeth and tried to ride it out without any more cries, but the searing swats were too much and he felt tears prickling up behind his eyes.

'Please Peter, no more,' he said, 'I –' his words turned into an unexpected sob as the spoon whacked down across his sit spot. He bit down on his lip as he felt the tears start to fall, and put his head back down on his arm, trying to muffle the sound of his crying.

Peter felt awful. He continued to swat Neal, watching the red circles across his butt getting darker and angrier, but the sounds of Neal's distress were starting to get to him and he unconsciously pulled the kid tighter against his stomach.

He moved the swats down to Neal's thighs, making him jerk forward helplessly.

'Not there,' Neal whimpered as Peter created scarlet blotches halfway down to his knees. Peter could hear the tears in his voice and feel Neal's struggles becoming less violent, and decided they were nearly done.

'Are we going to have to do this again soon?' he asked firmly, moving the smacks back up to Neal's butt.

'No, _never_,' Neal promised, somewhat recklessly, his shoulders shaking slightly and his voice thick.

Peter put down the spoon and put his hand on Neal's bottom, feeling the angry heat rising up off it and making Neal twitch uncomfortably. 'Ok then,' he said, and landed one last hard smack with his hand right across the centre of Neal's butt. Neal flinched but didn't protest.

Peter pulled Neal's boxers up over the reddened skin, making him squirm, and then reached for his pants, dragging them up too but leaving them undone. He felt Neal start to lever himself off his lap, so he lifted him the rest of the way and gently pushed him down on the couch next to him. After what the kid had said about hating him, he wasn't sure whether Neal would let him provide any comfort, but he put his arm around him anyway, and was surprised to feel Neal lean into him.

Neal brushed the last of the tears out of his eyes, forcing himself to try and breathe normally. Much as he would love to let go and cry in Peter's arms right now, he didn't want to look any weaker than he already did. He had a feeling Peter wouldn't mind, but even so, he did his best to get a handle on himself as Peter rubbed his hand up and down Neal's arm.

He let his head fall against Peter's shoulder and was relieved to feel the older man pull him closer.

'You know I'm just trying to keep you out of jail, right?' Peter asked him softly.

Neal nodded. He shifted onto his side, trying to take the weight off his throbbing bottom. 'I…' he started, then stopped. 'I didn't mean to say I hated you,' he said quietly.

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 'I know.'

'I mean…I really don't,' Neal said, staring at his lap.

Peter smiled. _Yeah, love you too kid_, he thought. 'You gonna be alright?' he said out loud.

Neal nodded and moved until he was more upright on the couch, buttoning his trousers as he did so. 'I can stay for dinner right?' he asked, doing his best attempt at a confident smile. It came out fairly well, though he suspected his tear-stained cheeks were probably hampering the effect. Still, Peter grinned back at him.

'Yeah, if you're good.'

Neal opened his mouth to say_'I'm always good'_ ...and then decided that might be pushing it.

- END -

**Hope you liked it :) Reviews are much appreciated!**


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